He Sails
Thin shadows spread long across an orange-tinged, black-wet earth.
Reaching for life, brilliant-green winter wheat lays out an edible carpet.
A piercing breeze blows into the face of the sun rising from its purple blanket.
There. The calls.
Her breath is quick. Truck light shows heavy, steamy clouds through small wire and plastic seams.
Muscles and sinew ripple, tight wound, ready for release. She trembles.
Tannin, sulfur, peat, centuries of cedar and cypress excite her and ground this space, this place.
There. The calls.
His breath is not quick. Wind buffets the truck and whirs over its shell. Cold first-light.
He squeezes steel springs. The muscle and sinew rocket into the chill, anxious and eager.
Blue steel rests on camoed shoulder as the dike crunches. Down-slope into the slosh layer in ice.
There. The calls.
Featherless plastic tethered to lead tries to fly. Gravity wins. Splash. Repeat.
Black water runs from fur, slowing as cold transforms. From her perch, she sees. There. The birds.
Shell from pocket to mag to carrier to chamber. From his crouch, he sees. There. The birds.
There. It falls. Mouth-held, the prize is delivered to hand.
Stay still. There. The Great White Bird sails in.
------- a poem by W.J. Wheless. 2015
Thin shadows spread long across an orange-tinged, black-wet earth.
Reaching for life, brilliant-green winter wheat lays out an edible carpet.
A piercing breeze blows into the face of the sun rising from its purple blanket.
There. The calls.
Her breath is quick. Truck light shows heavy, steamy clouds through small wire and plastic seams.
Muscles and sinew ripple, tight wound, ready for release. She trembles.
Tannin, sulfur, peat, centuries of cedar and cypress excite her and ground this space, this place.
There. The calls.
His breath is not quick. Wind buffets the truck and whirs over its shell. Cold first-light.
He squeezes steel springs. The muscle and sinew rocket into the chill, anxious and eager.
Blue steel rests on camoed shoulder as the dike crunches. Down-slope into the slosh layer in ice.
There. The calls.
Featherless plastic tethered to lead tries to fly. Gravity wins. Splash. Repeat.
Black water runs from fur, slowing as cold transforms. From her perch, she sees. There. The birds.
Shell from pocket to mag to carrier to chamber. From his crouch, he sees. There. The birds.
There. It falls. Mouth-held, the prize is delivered to hand.
Stay still. There. The Great White Bird sails in.
------- a poem by W.J. Wheless. 2015
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